Review of Eating People
Waa! Good grief, the cigar singed the ruddy handlebar moustache, bloody damned subversives on the tape deck - CND supporters, anti-territorials. The country gone to pot, these wreckers undermining the very fabric of our free society, they must be stamped out. Why can't these buggers play military band music? ("the worst guitar solo in the world" fills the air, playing marbles with ageing brain cells.)
My God! Now they're attacking Milton Keynes, a rabbit hutch to live in and a bath for the coal, that's what the working classes want, that and Sheena Easton. Keep the sods down. Can't understand these bastards' infernal banter, some sort of commie code, you can bet your polo stick. What's Underneath The Wardrobe - more Reds no doubt, on their way to reinforce the under-the-bed battalion. Why can't they sing songs about drugs like the easily controlled hippies used to? (The IA's mutant version of If Six Was Nine plays in the background, minus guitar but with a drum-box and some straight-faced, dead-pan toasting. Some backing singers appear, on loan from a Zen monastery, "Ommm..." An information bulletin gives instructions for the moving of patients.)
We should never have let the lower species get their grubby little hands on electrical power, the national grid was a big mistake. The imps are using it to make music ("Electronic Music is the opium of the people, Electronic Music makes you weak and flabby, unable to fight for your country.")
These ruddy blighters don't even try to make a profit. Blank tape and SAE, where does that leave the economy? Value for money? Bah. What these youths need is a good stiff war, a hefty dose of radiation never hurt anyone.
Late News: Deleted Records have taken over Broadcasting House and are transmitting the Instant Automatons' Crock Of Shit every five minutes. Tune in now!